


friction knew no bounds

by straightlycurved



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Depression, F/M, First Kiss, Mental Health Issues, Romance, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26418100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straightlycurved/pseuds/straightlycurved
Relationships: Jennifer "JJ" Jareau & Emily Prentiss, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/Original Male Character(s), Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/Reader
Kudos: 16





	friction knew no bounds

Words: 2.516k

Genre/Pairing: Romance, JJxm!reader(omc)

a/n: hehe first tumblr fic, pls be easy on me. also i am a cishet dude, idk how women work, i tried okkkk. ik jjXm!omc/rdr isn’t the most popular,,,but idk ok i just have such a crush on aj cook and i have commitment issues irl and i needed this :))) anyway hope you enjoy losers

_ idk mild swearing, mental illness, mention of offing oneself _

He loved the paperwork.

No one else did, but he loved it.

Not because he didn’t enjoy being in the field. Oh, the only thing he might have loved more than the paperwork was the justice they served in towns across America.

No, he loved paperwork because it kept him  _ awake.  _ It kept his brain from wandering. Because the idea of him being left alone with his thoughts was fucking  _ terrifying.  _

You’d never catch L/N alone without a book in his hands, earbuds in his ears, phone close by, something, anything, to keep his mind in the moment. An uncanny ability to get lost in his thoughts kept Y/N alive in his troubled youth; now, it threatened to do the opposite. 

Paperwork kept him mind-numbingly occupied like nothing else. Well, except for  _ her,  _ but who the hell was going to acknowledge that? Not Y/N. He would delve into the depths of his frightening dreams before he’d admit he was that deeply in love with her. 

After all, if he didn’t internalize every emotion he felt, his name wouldn’t be Y/N L/N. Repressing his feelings was in his blood. If a forensic analyst zoomed in one of L/N’s blood cells, they’d see “toxic masculinity” written all over it. 

It wasn’t particularly obvious to the rest of the BAU that he was depressed. After all, years of torment in Y/N’s childhood had compelled him to carefully mold a facade of pure, utter  _ indifference _ . The only emotion the team had ever seen L/N exhibit was anger, because society said that was okay. Anger was just...peachy.

So he did the paperwork. Form A-2 first, then the incident reports, then the G-67B requisition sheets, even the media liaison’s RR-15 reimbursement forms. And  _ anyone  _ in the FBI would tell you how that damn form--RR-15--required a job all on its own. 

The BAU knew this, at least. So it came as no surprise that Agent L/N was already in the office when the squad was called in on a Saturday case. Sure, it was a little weird that a 26-year-old had nothing but work to do on the weekends, but no one in the FBI was going to judge. 

It was looking like a standard power-assurance killer during the briefing when, for the first time, someone noticed something was wrong.  _ Y/N was still wearing yesterday’s clothes.  _ JJ took note of this fact with slight undertones of worry. Maybe he’d just spent the night at someone’s place. That was a  _ very  _ normal thing to do for someone of his age--hell, it was kind of expected. As such, the worry ebbed from the shores of JJ’s amygdala.

Notch another point for L/N’s facade. 

\--

As JJ had predicted back in the round table room, the case was shaping up to be a very easy one. The guy was textbook; literally. Spencer had quoted  _ Behavioral Psychology of Power-Assurance Offenders  _ more times than he had said “actually”. And Reid used that word a lot.

No one noticed the increasingly sullen nature of L/N’s behavior. He was usually quiet when he worked (his specialty was behavioral prediction; the most difficult of all, and it required piecing together every piece of the profile), but this was another level. Even his well-practiced mask didn’t manage to contain all of the sadness lurking underneath the surface of that scarred skin. 

The team was poised to arrest the unsub before a gala event the unsub was going to attend tomorrow (credit: L/N). The hour hand had just ticked past eleven on the clock in the police precinct when Hotch finally said they’d wrap up the next day. The team breathed a sigh of relief--except Y/N.  _ This,  _ JJ noticed. Wait, was he scrunching up his face in--fear??--no, wait, the moment had passed. 

There was no way he had just been scared of going to sleep _ ,  _ right? 

The man in question spoke for only the fourth time that day when he asked, “Hey, you guys, do you mind leaving behind a car? I kinda need to wrap up a few things with the local LEOs.”

\--

A black Suburban receded in the windshield mirror as the three other BAU vehicles pulled out of the parking lot and onto a busy street that headed toward sweet, sweet, slumber. For most of the team, anyway.

Emily and JJ were having a deep conversation in their car. 

“Hey, did you notice the face Y/N made when Hotch talked about going to sleep? It looked like he was  _ scared _ ,” JJ started.

“Really?”

“Yeah, and he’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday, Emily,” she continued. “I’m worried. At first I thought he had just, you know, been with someone, but thinking about it, he’s been so quiet lately too--”

“Oh my god, you  _ so  _ have feelings for him!” Prentiss squealed. 

“Not. The. Point.” 

“So you aren’t denying it--”

“Emily!” JJ interrupted, frustrated.

“Okay, fine--if you think something’s wrong, do something about it.” 

“Hmm…”  _ Maybe I will,  _ the Pennsylvania native thought.

\--

It had been around an hour since the team left the precinct, and JJ’s knuckles were raw from knocking on L/N’s door incessantly for three straight minutes.  _ Maybe he isn’t here yet,  _ she thought.  _ We have solo rooms, anyway. _

The door to the right opened, and Rossi peeked out. “You might want to stop knocking--”

“Yeah, I know he isn’t home--”

“No, kiddo,” Rossi said, holding up a card. “He never took his room key. Here, you keep it--for when he comes home.” 

When another hour passed with no sign of anyone entering Room 248, another hour of JJ laying awake, sleep eluding her, she simply slipped out her door and into Y/N’s. Just to make sure he got in safely. (This was very illogical, but feelings make people do weird things.)

What ended up jolting her awake was not a person knocking outside the suite; no, it was the sunlight that filtered through the windows, illuminating a bed with only a blonde and a blaring phone on it, otherwise perfectly undisturbed.

JJ came to a startling conclusion.

_ L/N never made it home last night. _

Immediately assuming the worst, she stopped only to grab a toothbrush and some work clothes before rushing back to where the team had left him last night. The black suburban hadn’t been moved. An inkling of hope re-entered JJ’s soul.

She frantically walked inside, and there he was, inside a glass conference room, moving around, obviously working some type of case on a spare evidence board. It couldn’t be their current case; this was as near to done as you could get without actually closing the case.

The media liaison stopped, simply watching him investigate. She could practically hear the gears turning in his head. But that’s not what she focused on. 

She noticed how he moved slowly, as if shackles with hundred-pound weights were attached to his ankles, every step looking like it drained more out of him. She noticed how he shook when he took each breath, visibly willing himself not to collapse, pushing forward further. She noticed how he simply  _ existed _ , not living, not dying, just this invisible pressure pushing upon his chest, trapping him in this vacuum of surviving on pure, primal instinct. 

_ How am I only seeing this now?  _ JJ asked herself incredulously.  _ How has no one else called it out?  _

This simply could not go on any longer. 

She pushed aside the transparent doors, drawing Y/N’s gaze from the red thread connecting points on a map and several people. And Jennifer Jareau could  _ swear on her sister’s grave  _ she saw the 100-pounder slash to 50, the weight on his pressure begin to evaporate, a spark of life flicker into being in his eyes.

When JJ realized just how much joy this filled her with, she realized something.

She had fallen in love with a broken man. And the broken man didn’t need to say it--she knew he loved her back.

Now just to figure out how to get him to come to terms with it. She had to heal him first.

“You’re here early,” L/N greeted softly.

“Says you.”

“Ah, this?” He pointed toward the board. “Couldn’t sleep. I work on cold cases when it happens.” 

“Couldn’t sleep, or didn’t try?” JJ asked crossly. 

“Huh?” 

“You never came to the hotel!” she accused.

Y/N’s face contorted into something akin to disbelief. “You--you were--did you  _ stalk  _ me?!” 

“No! I got worried when it became two hours without a peep from you! I went to check on you, and it turns out  _ Rossi  _ had your key! I fell asleep inside your room and when I woke up, you still weren’t there!” 

Anger was the only emotion Y/N L/N ever let out from behind his inauthentic indifferent demeanor. This time, it boiled over in gallons. “I don’t need you to check on me,  _ mom.  _ I’m twenty-six fucking years old. God  _ damn.  _ You have zero right to come in here talking to me in that tone. None!” The relief JJ had provided against the onslaught of depression dissipated instantly as he stormed out of the room. 

...maybe Jennifer should have thought this through.

\--

L/N refused to so much as look at JJ during the arrest. She, however, was much too haunted by the pain in his movements to spare a thought to his opinion of her. She was concerned with how easily it slipped past the eyes of even Rossi, whatever it was that was plaguing Y/N flying low under the radar. JJ was determined to fix hers, at least.

So when the man decided to sit next to Morgan (instead of being next to her, letting her adorable head fall asleep on his shoulder), Jennifer didn’t bat an eye. It hurt, yes, but definitely expected; and as such, a plan had already been formulated in her mind. She sat across from him, waiting for Derek to inevitably fall asleep.

When he finally did, JJ started nonverbally flirting with L/N, knowing he wouldn’t be able to avoid her on the plane. First, she tangled her legs in his, ignoring his feeble attempts to shake her off. Knowing she was out of sight of the others, she then started “accidentally” brushing his fingers across the table, this time pretending not to see the way the book shook in his hands every time physical contact was made.

This continued for the entire flight, JJ’s big blue doe eyes peeking over the edges of her file whenever she heard Y/N groan, taking satisfaction in the knowledge that it was  _ her  _ having this effect on him, further quelling any doubts she may have had over the depth of feeling they both mutually shared.

Finally, the jet landed in Quantico, and Special Agent Jareau moved to get off the plane when she felt a strong grip wrap around her wrist. She smirked briefly before turning around, facing L/N with a stoic expression.

“What the  _ hell  _ are you playing at?” he whispered furiously. 

“Me? Hmm?” she batted her eyelashes at him, feigning innocence.

“Okay, you want to act like my mother? Fine. Guess I’ll  _ pour my heart  _ out to you then, mom,” he said, mockingly. Y/N then spun upon his heel, leaving a very confused Jennifer Jareau in his wake. She blinked. 

“That’s not how that was supposed to go.”

\--

At around five pm Sunday night, a thunderous boom came from the door at the front of JJ’s apartment. Startled, she dropped the TV remote, nearly jumping at her gun, before grabbing it and going toward the source of the noise. She peeked through the eyehole and let out a half sigh of relief when she learned it was a very frustrated L/N slamming her door, not Godzilla.

Although one did wonder, was there a difference in this case?

“Since you want to  _ mother  _ me, Jareau”-- _ I want to do more than mother you _ \--“here!” L/N basically threw a phone at her as he stormed in, already open to a black screen. 

JJ glanced down at the sleep tracker app and did a double take. “You’re--you’re kidding me, right--” The app read  **_3 hours of sleep over the past 7 days_ ** . Below that was a mental health log that documented every time he had felt a change in mood. The pie chart at the top showed:

**_63% Depressive Episodes, 27% Depression-Induced Anxiety, 5.95% Despair, 4% Apathy, .05% Happy_ **

**_Change over past 7 days: -6% Happy, +5.95% Despair, +.05% Indifference_ **

**_Mental Health: Borderline Suicidal; See Therapist Urgently_ **

“For--for--for how long…? Y/N, what the hell?! Why didn’t-didn’t you...oh my god, I’m so sorry--” The media liaison all but collapsed into racking sobs, losing her balance and stumbling. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her, keeping her steady, and suddenly she felt more at home than she’d felt since...Roslyn.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” L/N cooed as she burrowed her face into his rough shirt, the Hornets logo on the front seemingly drawing JJ closer to him. Her big blue eyes were hidden from the world--a real tragedy, in his opinion--as they continued to water. “I just hope you understand I don’t mean anything by it.”

“Why didn’t you come to us--to me--to a therapist--to  _ someone _ ? You know we love you, right?” She whimpered as if she were a mere toddler. Faced with the thought of losing him, having only realized she loved him recently, her brain short-circuited to age 2.

“No, you guys don’t. You can’t. I’ve been nothing but distant--and that’s on me. You guys just think you do,” Y/N said.

“I-I can’t speak for the o-others, but I know…” 

“You know what?” he prodded.

“I know I love you.” 

“That’s not true, but thank you for the senti-”

“No, you idiot”-- _ men are so damn OBLIVIOUS _ \--“I  _ love  _ you.” 

“You--like...romcom pompom style?” he asked, looking deathly serious.

Despite the weight of the moment, she couldn’t help but laugh. “Did you--did you just say--”

“Romcom pompom? Yeah, I did,” Y/N chuckled. “I don’t know, I’ve always thought of you like the perfect cheerleader type, you know--with your beautiful laugh, those  _ gorgeous fucking eyes _ , that hair, that sense of humor,  _ jesus JJ those eyes what the hell _ \--and this is too much like a cheesy romcom to be real so--”

No more words came out as JJ’s heart melted and their lips melded. The fire department would later swear that they’d seen sparks flying from miles away. 

Because their friction knew no bounds.


End file.
